


Five letters

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: The first letter was found by Anthea as soon as he got up.The dark red envelope had slipped under the door and had reached the white carpet at the entrance, where it stood out like a blood stain.





	Five letters

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss.  
> For the challenge of the Facebook group Mystrade is our division: Writters and readers: a fic with the word Letter.  
> English is not my first language, this has been translated with the help of the translator Deepl, I regret any error.

The first letter was found by Anthea as soon as he got up.   
The dark red envelope had slipped under the door and had reached the white carpet at the entrance, where it stood out like a blood stain.  
Holding his breath he opened it, closing his eyes to the meaning of the paper. After a few seconds in which she could hear Mr. Holmes' voice as clearly as if it were next to her, "first the job, Anthea, then the feelings," she wiped her eyes, drawing a small smile and heading for the shower.   
It was going to be an intense day.   
Just as it should be every time you reached the end of an era.  
Just as it should be every time you started a life.

Letters two and three were received by Lady Alice and Sir Edwin in identical red envelopes shortly afterwards in the meeting room.  
Sir Edwin held the paper with the disbelief and vertigo that change produces, but also with affection, Lady Alice received the message with a mixture of nostalgia, resignation and hope. 

Letter number four was delivered three hours later to a very furious Sherlock Holmes by an MI5 agent in the small interrogation room to which he and Dr. Watson had been led after attempting to sneak into a government facility using an ID card long stolen from his brother.  
Not only did the ID not work, but it made it known that the cardholder not only did not have access to the facility but it did not cost in any of the government databases.   
In other words, that person did not exist.  
After breaking the envelope and removing the paper abruptly, the Detective's first reaction was one of stupor, looking around as if it was some kind of joke. Then he laughed incredulously, before calming down and smiling with something like pride.  
John Watson looked at his friend, between worried and indignant, wondering what would have caused such an effect on Sherlock.  
\- What's the matter? When is your brother going to deign to appear and set us free?  
Sherlock looked at him, with a smile and a strange gleam in his gaze.  
\- What brother, John? I have no brother.

A fifth letter was waiting for Sally Donovan when she arrived at the Yard that morning. This time, the envelope was an ordinary white envelope, and bore the signature of DI Gregory Lestrade:  
"Dear Sally:  
I wish we could have had this conversation in person, but unfortunately time is short.   
Don't worry, I'm fine. Better than I've ever been, really.  
For years you have asked me about the identity of the person with whom I share my life, asking why it was a secret or whether it really existed. Asking why I didn't trust you.   
I'm sorry. But it wasn't a lack of trust. It was a question of security.   
All precautions are few when you are the companion of the British Government.   
Yes, years ago I decided to join Mycroft Holmes' life. Get that expression off your face!   
I would have liked to tell you on many occasions, to tell you how immensely happy I am, how loved and protected I have felt every minute we have spent together, even though we have had to hide.   
I can't tell you exactly what the extent of Mycroft's power and influences is, and I'm not even sure I know it myself.   
But I can tell you it's a lot. Too much maybe.   
It's not someone who appears in the media, or whose name is going to appear in history books, but it's someone whom everyone who moves the world, for better or for worse, in the shadows knows.   
That's why it was so important that our relationship was an absolute secret.   
Not just to protect me. My family, my friends, all of you would have been an easy target to get to him. Magnussen was an amateur, and his was child's play compared to what others would have been able to do.  
For years, Mycroft dedicated his life to the country. Surely he would have done it until the end of his days, if he hadn't fallen in love with this simple and not at all extraordinary policeman.   
But when he agreed to give his life to his work, giving up any personal relationship, he set a condition: if at any time he decided he did not want to continue, they would be obliged to remove any trace of his existence and let him disappear in peace.  
After talking and meditating carefully, we have decided that it is time to end the lives we lead, and start building our own lives. Together.  
As you read this, four more letters will have been delivered.   
Four envelopes with four blank pages.   
When the recipients receive them, they will know to whom they belong, and what they mean.   
Everything, names, birth records, social security numbers, fingerprints, absolutely everything will disappear from the records.   
There will be nothing, not even the slightest document, with which to prove our existence.   
As long as that happens, we will already be far from London, with new identities. The senior chief will be told that I have asked for a transfer, and that I have been granted one.   
I would like to say that we will meet again someday, but I do not know if that will be possible.   
Whatever happens, I know this is for the best, and I will not regret my decision.  
When you finish this letter, go down to the car park where Anthea will be waiting for you, she will take care of its destruction. Don't ask her anything, she couldn't answer even if she wanted to.  
Don't try to ask Sherlock either, he won't know where we've gone or who we'll be from now on.  
The only thing that matters is that we will be safe, and together.  
Take care of the team, and yes, that includes a certain detective advisor, and be happy. We will be.  
With affection, Greg."


End file.
